


Therefore I Am

by cyberghosts



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Growth, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gang Violence, Hurt and comfort, Past Tense, Romance, Slow Burn, Social Issues, Social Justice, Third Person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberghosts/pseuds/cyberghosts
Summary: “I have become something wonderful, she thought. I have become something terrible. Was she now a goddess or a monster? Perhaps neither. Perhaps both. ”—R. F. Kuang,The Poppy WarVictoire 'V' Clemonte was not a nice young woman— raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, she lived an incredibly privileged life that blinded her from the realities of the world around her. She was young, selfish, and only looked out for herself. Her own wellbeing was her number one concern. After losing all her influence and power though, V finds herself alone on the streets with only the people she once looked down on to rely on. Turned from the corpo life to one of crime, V struggles to come to an understanding of the cluster-fucked city around her.To make matters worse, the failed attempt of a one-night stand has come to Night City just two years later to haunt her. As if things couldn't get more embarrassing.
Relationships: Goro Takemura/Female V, Goro Takemura/Original Female Character, Goro Takemura/V
Comments: 27
Kudos: 116





	1. Opulent Blood

**Author's Note:**

> (1) I want to make this perfectly clear: The V featured in this story is not a great person. She grew up in an environment that fed toxicity and led to her being a very selfish and spoiled person. I would go far enough to say at first, you probably won't like her. She will change though, and grow for the better as she becomes more exposed to the real world around her. This isn't a story of some badass V who knows how to make the right decisions or is even very good at shit like merc work. Nah, she's gotta learn, gotta grow. Please be patient with her.  
> (2) This is a slow burn. Meaning that the actual romance and the main pairing won't happen for quite a while.  
> (3) AU is used loosely. Will follow the game, but has some different dialogue (I hate copy pasting dialogue in fanfictions, tbh) and different outcomes.  
> (4) There will eventually be smut, yes.  
> (5) Follow me on tumblr @ Mistystarot for graphics, playlists, etc! Check my 'therefore-i-am' tag!

“ _I cried tears of anger. Then came drunken tears, drunken laughter and the familiar state of intoxication that lasted till I fell asleep. In my sleep, I felt the ship take off and giggled drunkenly, deciding to blow that planet up along with daddy. Feeling pity for Eeristan, I fell into asleep_.”

  
― Ellen Stellar, **Kiran: The Warrior's Daughter**.

* * *

_Therefore I Am_

**Prologue** :  
OPULENT BLOOD  
  


* * *

**JAPAN, 2075**

Victoire Clemonte was not the type of woman to stray far from home, lest it was of the utmost importance. Her apartment, or ivory castle so to speak, was situated upon one of the highest luxury buildings nestled in Night City and she found leaving it to be far too troublesome. She had flown out to Japan for a business trip at the insistence of her father, citing that it was just as important for her to be there. 

Most would have been ecstatic at the opportunity: just one business meeting, a bit of weight throwing, and then the rest of the afternoon could be spent playing tourist. And as if that were not enough, an audience with Saburo Arasaka— the _ damned _ emperor, would have been enough to convince any homebound soul to travel.

To Victoire (or V as she insisted her friends call her, though the only semblance of a friend she had was in that of a merc she hired by the name of Jackie Welles) though, it was business as usual. How could it not, when her father was a brilliant engineer with a business successful enough to raise millions of dollars to cushion the fall of the next several generations of family? The emperor of Japan and the CEO of Araaska was just another ass to kiss in Victoire’s eyes, and she was steadily growing tired of it. If it weren’t for the fact that her father promised her— pointedly **not** her younger brother Beau, the company once he retired, she would have told him to kick rocks.

But alas here she was, sat in front of the emperor himself alongside her father. When they first entered the office space at Arasaka plaza, Saburo’s bodyguard instantly caught Victoire’s eyes. Tongue in cheek, she forced herself not to stare at him too long. Undoubtedly he was her type— a bit older, a strong jawline, that intense look in his eyes. His dark hair was combed back perfectly, with only a hint of the sides beginning to gray with age. He was like many of her past partners: a number of them her own bodyguard. The last time she had a rendezvous with one of their own employees though, her father flatlined him.

‘ _ Are you trying to ruin our family’s reputation? This some leftover rebellion from your teenage years? Come the fuck on Victoire, act with professionalism! _ ’ He had lectured her over the half-naked and totally dead corpse of her previous bodyguard.

So instead she averted her eyes from the Japanese bodyguard and focused on what would surely be a boring meeting. Saburo wasted no time launching into a discussion with Victoire’s father, Chance Clemonte, about the latest advancements in their family business. Having a hand in the successful wave of Braindance technology, it was no wonder why someone like the Arasakas would be interested in their company. 

An hour in the conversation shifted to projected numbers: how much they made this year, how much they’re predicted to make the following, budgeting, where they could make cuts. Victoire’s headache and annoyance was growing by the minute. 

“I think I have reached a decision, then,” Saburo spoke slowly, his eyes sliding from Chance to his own bodyguard. A silent nod came from the unnamed man, and Saburo turned back to the Clemontes, “Arasaka will officially purchase your company.”

Victoire’s painfully fake smile dropped instantly, her eyes shooting over to her dad.

“Fucking excuse me?” The twenty-three year old barely got out, “I— you didn’t tell me we were here to _ sell  _ the company.”

“Please, calm yourself Victoire. I brought you here so you aren’t left in the dark. Besides, this is for the best! You will be able to live a stress-free life, knowing all your finances are taken care of.” 

“‘ _ Stress-free _ ?’ I went to school for this, I was a god-damned intern for two years! I’ve worked my ass off keeping up with the books and up to date with everything internal so that once you gave up, I could take over. I-I deserve a shot at this, you can’t be serious!”

Her father gave her a look; that disgusted glare he always gave her in private moments of infighting. He didn’t believe in her abilities, didn’t think she were up to the challenge of running a company. He reeled his anger in though and instead, he turned from her and faced Saburo.

“I am sorry for my daughter’s reaction. Perhaps I should have left her at home. I thought she would have been able to see reason, but she is clearly… emotional.”

“I understand, you have worked hard preparing for the future Miss Clemonte. Sometimes life throws a ‘wrench’ into your plans, and one must overcome that adversity. I would be happy to offer you a position within Arasaka—”

The emperor was cut off by Victoire pushing herself up to a stand, the legs of her chair scraping unpleasantly against the chrome floors. The bodyguard shifted his stance, as if warning her to watch how she conducted herself.

“Emperor or not, you can fuck off with that offer. I don’t give a shit anymore,” Victoire reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. 

With a lit cigarette in hand, the young woman practically stomped off. As she reached the elevator, a second security guard pushed the call button for her. She took a long drag as she waited for the doors to slide open. 

“There’s a bar here, right?” 

He offered her a quick nod, “on the 2nd floor of the hotel wing.”

* * *

Arasaka Plaza was a lot like Night City’s own Konpeki Plaza— a building constructed and owned by the company it was named after. Chrome walls were paired with tranquil zen gardens, and the staff were made up of the best one could find in Japan. Few people even on Earth could afford to even walk in such a luxurious place, leaving the halls scattered with only a few Corpos here and there. Victoire was at least thankful for the empty elevator as she made her search for the bar. The last thing she wanted was small talk. Instead, she called up Jackie Welles on the holo. 

“ _ Hola chica, _ got another job for me?” He instantly greeted, all business-like. 

They had met through one Wakako Okada. Victoire needed a merc to teach the engineer she interned after a lesson. It was a horrid experience in her late teens— running around getting coffee like some damn servant. As soon as the internship was over, having only done it at her father’s insistence, she hired Jackie to teach the damned engineer a lesson. She might have been an intern but she was still a Corpo, her blood was still opulent. The fact that she was treated no better than the street trash who only got there thanks to scholarship, had infuriated her. 

Jackie was discrete— broke the man’s arms, threatened him around a little, and disappeared into the night; perfect for the job. Somehow along the way though, Victoire found him to be the only trustworthy person in her contacts list. Sure she knew other adult children of Night City’s best and brightest, but they were all the same: out to fuck one another, to get one step ahead of the crowd. Hell, even she was the same.

“Sure, if the job is just listening to me bitch. I gotta pay you for that?”

Jackie laughed, “you’re lucky I’m free right now. Lay it on me, V.” 

“I’m in Japan right now. My fucking dad decided to sell the company to Arasaka. We’re being absorbed, which means…”

“You aren’t getting handed the company anymore?”

“Yep. And get this, I was actually at the meeting with the emperor. He had the nerve to offer me a job in his company— as if this is some little thing he can remedy over. Yeah, no. Not about to spend the rest of my life kissing Arasaka ass.”

The elevator door slid open and VIctoire stepped out into the foyer, heading down the hall as the security guard had instructed her earlier. 

“Shit… so, what are you going to do?”

Victoire grimaced, “right now, I’m going to drink. Smoke. Think about killing my father but not actually doing it. Then, I suppose, head back to Night City. I… don’t know what I’m going to do after that. I have money, education. I could get a job. Technically I don’t need to, family money and all… but still. I don’t know.”

“Sounds like you’re set. Could just spend the rest of your days living some aristocratic life, drinking and partying with the best of Night City.”

Victoire hummed in response, the sinking feeling in her gut only getting worse. “Look, I’ll call you back when I’m in Night City. Probs tomorrow, unless my dad finds some other way to fuck my life up.”

“Try to have some fun while you’re in Japan, at least!”

And with that, Jackie hung up. Victoire paused mid step, unable to shake the horrible feeling crawling up her skin. Luckily for her, the bar was within view. She could only hope that shots could wash away the feeling of dread. Like most bars in Night City, this one was no different. Shiny, with white neon lights lining the bar top. Only a few people mulled about, some at bar stools and others at private, intimate tables. All were dressed in their best, clearly stealing away from business for a moment of pleasure. 

Victoire waved over the bartender, a young woman, as she took a seat. The setting was familiar, comforting in a sad sort of way. Bars were a second home to her, most visits ended with partners and one night stands picked amongst the other lonely souls drinking away their problems.

“Got any special recommendations?” She asked the bartender.

The woman smiled and her yellow eyes lit up red as she transferred the menu to Victoire. It popped up along the borders of her vision, displaying a list of drinks and their contents. Before she could pick though, an image of a green glass bottle with a long neck and Japanese font appeared at the forefront of her vision. 

“We have our house special, sake! Unlike most you’d get locally, this sake is special because—”

“Spiel not needed,” Victoire interrupted, “I’ll take the bottle.”

“Oh, the whole thing? It costs quite a—”

“Again, don’t care!” She cut the bartender off again, her impatience growing. 

What did they take her for? Just some doll visiting the bar after spending the afternoon with some business man? For God’s sake, all she wanted was to get wasted and forget she was even  _ in  _ Japan. Victoire was charged, the amount flashing quickly into the corner of her vision. It didn’t even make a dent in her bank account. Soon enough the bottle and a glass appeared in front of her and finally, she could get to work forgetting that afternoon!

Ignoring the burn, she started to work on shot after shot. The bartender poured each until eventually, Victoire shooed her off and started to drink from the bottle. She knew it was wrong, that her father would be enraged to see her acting like such a brat in public— but she didn’t care. The company image didn’t matter anymore, after all they were just Arasaka now. Who cared what the previous CEO’s daughter did anyway?

She drank for what felt like hours, but surely wasn’t _ that  _ long. Victoire had powered through half the bottle and was completely hammered; she now leaned against the bartop with her cheek resting sideways against the cool surface. Her vision swayed and her head pounded but it was better than pacing her hotel room anxiously all night. Hell, she was near content passing out there when a sudden voice interrupted her. 

“Miss Clemonte?”

She groaned in response. 

“Miss Clemonte, I am Goro Takemura— Saburo Arasaka’s bodyguard. We met earlier during the meeting.”

“I didn’t meet anyone,” she whined, “I was never introduced to anyone! Because no, I’m just some stupid girl and my girl brain can’t understand the  _ intra _ —intricacies of corpo biz deals.”

She was a mess as she stumbled over her own words and aired her grievance, thanks to the boat-load of sake she had consumed. Despite her state though, it was the truth. It was why her father kept her at arms lengths, only telling her about business when it was absolutely unavoidable… She knew damned well if she was born a man, her father’s attitude towards her taking over the family business would be different.

“Please, allow me to help you to your room. It’s late, and you should be retiring for the night if you wish to make your flight back home tomorrow.”

Muttering about how her father was bullshit and she didn’t care if she made her flight, Victoire forced herself to sit back up. The room spun and her stomach twisted with dizziness. Squeezing her eyes closed, she took a deep gulp of air. 

“T-That sake stuff is not like the kind we got at home,” she forced her eyes open, and that was when she realized who she was talking to. The hot older guy from the meeting, who stood ever-so still behind Saburo the entire time.  _ That _ bodyguard, right!

“Oh!” She let out a shocked gasp, “it’s  _ you _ ! You know, I kinda sorta wanted to ask for your holo number, but I thought it wouldn’t have been a very good idea. Ya know, with the emperor right there and all.” The thought alone sent her into a spell of drunk giggles— if she had the nerve to ask for his number mid-meeting, her father would have flatlined her right there!

Goro Takemura rolled his eyes and put a hand on her shoulder as he guided her to stand up. It was a struggle and the stench of alcohol was almost enough to make him chastise her, but he swallowed his complaints down. Making sure she made it back to her room was a direct order from Saburo-sama, and he was determined to achieve his goal as soon as possible. 

“It would have been very unprofessional,” he simply said as he grabbed her purse off of the bartop for her. 

“ _ Well _ ,” she drew out the word as she nudged his side with her elbow, “we’re off duty now, right? You said it’s late. How about you and I, ya know…” 

She tried to wink, as if someone in her state could be sly. Goro’s eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and he shook his head. 

“No, Miss Clemonte, my job is just to get you to your room safe and sound.”

The two of them struggling out of the bar and into the main foyer would have been a hilarious sight, if it were not for the seriousness of that afternoon. Victoire struggled to walk and Goro, ever the gentleman, held her up so much so that he was practically carrying her to the elevator. Halfway down the walkway she stopped and took her black heels off, opting to walk barefoot and on even grounds instead.

Passerbys made space, opting to walk several feet away as they struggled along. Few actually looked their way, openly smirking at the ridiculousness of it. Luckily the elevator didn’t take long, and they quickly boarded it again. 

“So,” Victoire grumbled as she watched him press the penthouse button, “you really don’t want to sleep with me?” 

“It would be dishonorable of me, you’re drunk...amongst other reasons.”

Victoire pouted, she hated it when other people were right. She was about to press him to find out what the ‘other reasons’ were when her stomach did a backflip. Instantly one hand went to her stomach and she moaned in pain. The speed of the elevator mixed with the struggle to fight gravity and stand up straight wreaked havoc on her stomach. 

“Are you—”

Before he could get the sentence out, she puked… all over his shoes. If she was sober she would have contemplated throwing herself off of the plaza roof, but all Victoire could feel right now was regret and disgust. Goro cursed far too quickly in Japanese for her translator to pick up, stepping back to avoid another mouthful of puke. After a second throw up her stomach began to ease slightly. 

“Oh my god, I am  _ soooo _ sorry,” she felt her eyes sting with tears, “I-I didn’t mean to!”

Goro brought a hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sighed as the elevator came to a stand still and the doors slid open. Takemura spoke into his earpiece, calling for a janitor to clean up the floor as quickly and discreetly as possible. Once the order was sent through, he turned his attention back to a sniffling Victoire. 

* * *

Victoire woke up to the acidic taste of puke and blinding sunlight filtering in through an open window. She groaned, her head pounding with pain as her senses struggled to come through. She was in a plush bed, warm and relaxed despite still being in her clothes from the previous day. Forcing herself, Victoire sat up and looked around her room. It was surely her room, noting her presence of her suitcase and bags near the door. How did she get here though? The last she remembered was the meeting, then the bar. When had she managed to drag herself to bed?

She forced herself to grab her laptop off the nightstand. Her flight was due today and she had no idea what time their private plane would take off. Keen on checking the deets her dad had emailed her the day prior, she lifted the screen and typed in her password. What she didn’t expect to find though, was a  _ new _ email…

‘ **_To_ ** _ : CelebrateVictoire _

**_From_ ** _ : ChanceClemonte _

_ It has finally dawned on me that your attitude and the way you conducted yourself today was not a simple slip up, but a symptom of your inaptitude. The way you have conducted yourself the past several years has been nothing short of deplorable. Using your position of power to manipulate others, to sleep with members of staff, to hire a fucking mercenary (yes, I know of the one you hired!) to do your dirty work has been horrendous. Not only do you lack skill, but subilty as well. Your actions nearly cost the company this deal with Arasaka. I cannot forgive you for that.  _

_ Your accounts have been seized. I’m taking my money back— that includes your cars and apartment as well. There is enough left in your account to get yourself a flight back to Night City, but that is it. That’s my last act of kindness for you. I will not let your selfishness hurt the family's future. Do not contact us again unless you have made some real and serious change _ .’

In that moment, sat there in the foreign hotel room reading what would be the last message from her father; Victoire saw red.


	2. New Beginnings

_Therefore I Am_

**Chapter One** :  
NEW BEGINNINGS  
  


* * *

**NIGHT CITY, 2075**

Victoire Clemonte paced the length of Night City airport, smoking from her last pack of cigarettes like a damn chimney. She had left her bags propped up against a bench just within view as she begrudgingly went down her holo contact list. Half the people she called didn’t answer, and the other half who did, dared to laugh at her. She had just got off the phone with Maxwell Morris, the son of a former pop star she met during school, when she finally lost it. With a groan she snapped the cigarette in half and threw it on the floor, heel promptly stomping the dying flames into smithereens.

Finally, she came upon Jackie Welles. She contemplated for a moment actually asking him for a favor. He had been the only reliable person she’d known in the past, but this was a whole other ballpark. She had no money to pave their friendship down a happy path— all she could do would be to rely on his goodwill. 

“Jackie,” she immediately spoke as he answered his call, “I need a ride, I guess.” 

“What, Delamain too busy to pick you up?” He joked, unknowingly causing the other woman to cringe. 

“It’s… a long story,” Victoire sighed, “my dad.. he seized all my accounts. Sapped all the money, took back my cars, even nabbed my apartment.”

“Holy shit! What did you do this time? Hooked up with another one of your bodyguards?”   


“Nah. Apparently the way I ‘ _ conducted'  _ myself’,” she airquoted around the word, “in a manner that was enough to disgust him. Took everything, told me to basically eat shit.”

Jackie cursed in spanish, “you’re really fuckin’ in it this time, aren’t you? I’ll be there in ten. Try not to get robbed.”

It was a miracle she wasn’t robbed at gunpoint as she waited for her ride to arrive. Still dressed in her fancy clothes, all chromed out without a single hair out of place— she would have been the prime target. Maybe it was God’s twisted way of showing her some mercy, or maybe the anger on her face was enough to scare any no gooders away. Either way Victoire, in all her corpo glory, was able to wait on a random sidewalk smack dab Night City without getting robbed or kidnapped.

She had contemplated several times over calling Jackie to complain he was taking too long when finally, he showed up. The car was an absolute clanker, rotting away with rust bruises and dents all along the side. Just a day prior and she would have rather been caught dead than seen in that hunk of scrap metal.

“Hola, V! Sorry took awhile, had to convince Pepe to let me borrow his ride. Mine is… indisposed.”

Jackie climbed out of the car and so kindly grabbed her bags off of the ground. Several were stuffed into the back seat and the remaining, jammed into the barely operational trunk. For someone who had only gone on a two day business trip, she had overpacked by a mile. At least now Victoire was lucky enough to have not lost everything.

“Looks like I owe not only you but Pepe now too,”  _ whoever the hell that was _ . 

Climbing into the passenger seat, she stomped on a leftover take-out bag and shuddered when her hand touched something sticky on the door handle. The inside was just as bad as the outside, and she had to quite literally force herself to stop from making any snide comments. 

“So, I’m guessin’ you don’t got a gameplan?” Jackie asked, once he was behind the wheel again.

“I am totally fucked! I tried calling other people but you were the only one to respond positively. Half left me on read and the rest mocked me.”

“Got no money, no place to stay, no ride, no one else to rely on…”

“Yep, I know. Real fucking pathetic.”

“My mom’s place is down in Heywood, got a nice little set up and a bar. El Coyote Cojo?” Who was he kidding— of course you never heard of it, “why don’t you lay low with us for a while. Til you get back on your feet.”

At that, Victoire froze. She stared at the man as if he had grown two heads. She barely knew him— _ fuck _ , she hired him to break a guy’s arms! Yet here he was, welcoming her into his home? His family? As if she were some life long friend? Her mind raced to find a reason: was he going to blackmail her? Did he expect more than a friendly relationship? 

“Y-You’re serious?” She finally asked, breaking the silence.

“See, you and I? I think we have chemistry, and well  _ Chica _ , you’re kind of fucked. The real Night City? Not the plushy city you know? It’ll eat you up and spit you out. I’m not ‘bout to let you drown, even if you are a gonk.”

Victoire forced herself to look away, turning her attention to the world around them. They passed several buildings, before making a left turn. 

“I… I’ll pay you and your mom back, somehow.”

“Oh? Got a plan goin’ already?”

She shook her head harshly, “not a fucking clue.”

“Could always just settle down, pop out a few kids,” Jackie responded in a faux-serious manner.

Silence ticked by for a second before the two of them erupted into laughs and giggles at the mere implication. Victoire was far from motherly and the idea of her giving up her partying lifestyle to push out some kids was absolutely ridiculous. 

“Holy shit,” Victoire wiped a tear from her eye, “I guess things really could be worse.”

* * *

El Coyote Cojo was not what you had expected. Made up mainly of deep woods and brick, it was the exact opposite of most bars Victoire had visited. Despite that, it was still relatively dotted with people here and there, enjoying an early afternoon drink. Jackie helped carry Victoire’s bags in, taking them up a back staircase and to what she would assume the apartment portion of the building. Before she could even look around though, her stuff was dumped on a couch and the two headed back into the bar. 

Located at one of the booths was an older woman with graying hair and a kind smile. Jackie was quick to give her a hug as the two of them approached, and slid into the booth seat next to her. Taking the hint, Victoire took the seat opposite of them. 

“You must be Mrs. Welles?” She asked, trying to be on her best behavior. The last thing she wanted was to piss off the homeowner she was bumming off of and be forced to sleep on the streets.

“Just Mama Welles. I hear you are… Jackie’s friend?”   


“Yeah, I’m Vi—”

“Just V,” Jackie supplied, “met a while back, got a good head on her shoulders. Her dad kicked her out, got no place to stay now. Tragic, really.”

Victoire forced herself not to frown. What was wrong with her name? Why insist on her nickname?

“That’s pretty much it,” she picked up on how vague Jackie was being, “dad kicked me out. Step mom doesn’t care— she’s probably thrilled, actually. Tried calling my younger brother up, but no answer. Even if he did, he couldn’t really help me…”

“Hmm… and do you have any plan on what you’re going to do now?” 

Victoire shrugged, looking between Jackie and his mother, “I’m not really the part time job type, ya know?” 

Just imaging having to work minimum wage, waitressing or working customer services was enough to make Victoire want to fling herself off the nearest mega building. Besides, apart from interning she had never had a real job. Sure she had an education, but at this point her professional image was ruined— no one would want to hire the scorned Clemonte daughter. It would be a PR nightmare!

“You could work with me, I guess.” 

The mere suggestion from Jackie caused both women’s gazes to snap to him. Jackie was an ex-Valentino turned mercenary. His work was nothing easily; consisting of a lot of dubious and down right horrible actions. Mama Welles knew little about Victoire but even she could see that V was not cut out for that type of work. 

“Oh come on,” Jackie continued on, breaking the silence, “you got that unsuspecting look about you— and I know you’re smart. We just gotta be good: use your skills to our advantage, be a bit picky about the type of jobs we take on. Just till you get enough to get your own place and figure out what the hell you’re going to do with your life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,  _ mi hijo _ ,” his mother chastised him before turning to Victoire, “I can offer you a job here. It’s not glamorous but it's safer than what my son’s suggesting. You can help bus tables— you’ll have to deal with some drunks but it’s better than potentially getting shot at.”

While she appreciated the offer, Victoire couldn’t think of anything more horrifying than working in a bar. Dealing out drinks, taking orders, ‘ _ customer is always right _ ’, and putting up with drunk assholes? It left a bitter taste in her mouth. Jackie’s offer on the other hand was… outside of her expertise. Victoire leaned back in the booth and let out the shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

“I’m good with computers. Hacking, overriding, the like,” she nodded slowly, “I think I can use those skills to help Jackie. But— trial run only. Get a relatively normal job, test the waters, see if I’m actually able to help.”

“Sweet! I’ll get Wakako on the holo, nab us a good job! You know how to shoot, right?”

“No idea,” Victoire shrugged, watching as Jackie practically hopped onto his feet. 

“Right, okay— gun range then Wakako! Let’s get a move on.”

All Victoire Clemonte could do was hope she wasn’t making the wrong decision.


	3. Hellbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) A dramatic time skip, for a dramatic occasion. Like I said chapter one, I don't plan on copy-pasting the game script. This story is more romance and relationship driven and will focus on that, aside from the actual main plot of the game. Some things will remain the same, others won't.  
> (2) Thank you for all the comments and kind words, I seriously appreciate every single one of you!  
> (3) I suck at writing fight scenes. I hope the one in this does the actual game scene some justice.

_Therefore I Am_

**Chapter Two** :  
HELLBOUND  
  


* * *

**JUST OUTSIDE OF NIGHT CITY, 2077**

_TWO YEARS LATER_

Victoire Clemonte had done a lot of stupid shit growing up— a lot of her decisions often led to regret, anxiety, to her staying up night after night stressed, but this? It took the cake. As she laid in a heaping pile of trash and mud, every one of her senses filled with disgust and dread, her latest mistake haunted her. Dexter DeShawn… how could she be so foolish to trust him, to trust some fixer she had barely known? 

Their little heist stunk to high heavens; anyone with half a brain could have realized that. Victoire had considered herself a smart woman at some point, but now? She was no more foolish than the street kids who took a big bite out of Night City and choked on it.

She stared up at the cloudless sky. Where she was dumped was far enough away from the city light pollution that she could actually see the stars. Victoire couldn’t remember the last time she actually saw them, and not some crappy replication. Regardless of the trash, mud and shit around her— was the world outside of the city always this beautiful? Was it this very night view that kept the nomads from ever straying too close to civilization?

Her thoughts were tangled and twisted as she tried to piece together where she was, and what had happened. She remembered the Relic, hiding in between servers, falling. Somewhere in between she stuck a shard in her head and returned to DeShawn. Then  _ what _ ? She gave up; content with this being her final moments. At least if Victoire was going to die, it was going to be with an amazing view of the night. 

There wasn’t an afterlife; or at least, so she thought. Victoire was never the religious type, but deep down she wished there was  _ something _ . Maybe she’d be reunited with Jackie, or maybe, she’d be forced to face the countless amount of lives she had taken in her two years of mercenary work. It wasn’t that she necessarily liked killing— she avoided hit jobs, mainly sticking with intel and thievery requests, but sometimes… things got sticky. 

The sound of wheels on gravel approached, first in the far distance till slowly… it got closer and closer. Victoire’s body ached and protested when she tried to sit up and instead, she resigned herself to flopping back into the mud. As if some miracle though,  _ the car found her _ . Headlights flooded her view and she squinted terribly, the sudden light causing her head to spin with dizziness. The car doors opened and she could hear arguing and shouting; but her brain struggled to keep up. 

Finally, hands slipped under her armpits. Words caught in her throat and she let out a terrible groan as whoever it was pulled her away from where she had been lying and towards the car. She was propped up against something and suddenly, she could see. 

Dexter DeShawn struggled to catch his breath, stumbling over his own feet as he dragged himself away from V.

“N-Now listen dawg,” he waved a careless hand in her direction and bent over as he struggled to recover, “I have done exactly what you asked, so let’s you and me figure this—”

The man he was grovelling to… she recognized him. He was from their failed heist, having nearly caught Jackie and Victoire hiding. Something about him seemed even more familiar, as if it were on the tip of her tongue. She  _ had _ to have seen him before, before the Relic. Whoever he was, spared no mercy. V watched his hand twitch as Dexter begged but before he could finish, the stranger raised his arm and shot Victoire’s short-term fixer in the head. 

Dexter’s body fell with a loud thud and some sick part of Victoire found satisfaction in it. Before she could even half heartedly celebrate his death though, the stranger approached her. He seemed to appraise her injuries, humming softly to himself, before crouching down so they were eye level. With optics glowing red, he turned his gaze from Victoire to the nearby city line. 

“Araska-sama, I’ve found your father’s killer.” The next sentence he spoke was in Japanese, Victoire’s cyberware struggled to keep up as it kicked into gear. 

“I-I didn’t—” Victoire tried to sit forward and defend herself, but a sharp pain in her side stopped her. She cursed and her right hand instantly went to press against the injury. Was it from the fall? Or was this injury from when Dexter had dumped her body?

“Quiet,” the man pulled his dominant hand back and before she could react, he knocked Victoire out.

The first thing Victoire noticed when she came to once again was that she wasn’t as in much pain as she had been earlier. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky in a tranquil blue with yellow undertones. Her hair rustled in the slight wind, causing her to finally come far more aware to her surroundings. Instantly, Victoire looked to her left. 

The man from earlier was driving, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration as he kept his gaze on the road before him. Her own vision blurred and glitched; shuttering as Victoire tried to focus. As if having heard her struggled, her ‘savior’ looked over. His optics flashed blue for a moment, before he scoffed. 

“ _ You smell like shit _ ,” this time, Victoire’s cyberware was able to translate in real time.

Every bone in her body wanted to insult him back, to curse and tell him to fuck off, but she  _ couldn’t _ . The last thing she wanted was to be dumped on the side of the road and left for dead.

“I bet I don’t like much better either,” she spat back out instead, her throat drier than possibly ever before.

Suddenly and as if out of nowhere, a tires screeched onto the road from somewhere off track. An engine revved loud and hard, propelling the pursuer forward. Nearly hitting a civilian car, Victoire jerked forward in her seat and ‘system malfunction’ flashed in red across her vision.  _ Fuck _ — now was not the time. Her head burned with pain and Victoire’s hand instantly went up to grab a fistful of hair in an attempt to brace the pain. 

“You hear me?” The Arasaka employee called out, “I need your help!”

With one free hand, the man shoved an airhypo in her direction. Victoire struggled to grab it, hands shaking with pain and unease. Once she got a good grip on it, she did just as she had seen time and time again, she stabbed just above her chest and pulled the trigger. Rejuvenated from the burst of medication, Victoire dropped the airhypo over the door. As if on cue, an angry motorcyclist zoomed to her side of the car before rushing forward. Two others joined him and guns were drawn.

The driver made quick work of one, ramming into him with the bumper of their car. It knocked the attacker off balance and suddenly, his motorcycle flipped over the hood of their car, the momentum causing the bike to roll over off the side of the hood. Somewhere ahead of them, their ride erupted with flames.

“G-Gun, now!” 

With no other choice, her savior-slash-potential captor gave in. A pistol was handed to Victoire and for the first time in days, she felt relief. Backed by the airhypo and adrenaline, she leaned against the door for support and raised the gun. She took aim at the closest on the right first. It took several shots, more missed than actually hit, to finally knock the first motorcyclist over. He fell over and suddenly, the bike exploded as it crashed into a metal divider.

The final attacker was much more trickier and as Victoire struggled to keep balance, she wondered where the ever loving fuck they had come from. They didn’t look like typical gangoons— were these Araska men? Wasn’t the man who was driving also from Arasaka?

The attacker rammed his motorcycle into the side of their car, causing the Japanese man driving Victoire to spin out. With little time to back up he instead hit reverse, sending them flying backwards nearly faster than they had been going earlier. Using the opportunity, Victoire took aim at their attacker again, shooting several times before finally… he jumped _ at _ them.

He had completely taken Victoire off guard, having decided to ditch his motorcycle and literally jump at their car. Mantis blades sprouted from his arm and quickly dug them into the hood of the car.

“What the fuck!” Victoire cursed, ducking nearly a moment too late as the man lifted his arm and swung the blade at her. It sliced her cheek just barely, causing blood to burst from the cut. 

She ducked once more and as he struggled to regain balance, Victoire took aim and shot him in the face twice. Metal bits and electricity spouted from the blast in his head as he held on for dear life. He gave a final scream before charging once more. He had nearly hit her once more when suddenly, the driver rammed into a pole, pinning the attacker between it and the car. The force itself flung Victoire forward and before she could shield herself, her head hit the dashboard and she lost consciousness. 

Victoire woke up once again to being dragged out of a flaming pile of shit by her armpits— except this time, it was a quickly-burning car instead of a landfill. She silently joked to herself about how if she had known so many men would be tripping over themselves to get a hold of her, she would have taken the relic hit sooner. 

“Don’t you dare faint again,” the main cursed, dropping her after having dragged her a few feet away from the car. He stumbled into her view, collapsing on the cement in front of her, “keep your eyes open.”

Her gaze went from the man to their attacker, still alive and flailing. He was pinned between the metal pole and car, unable to break free. Eventually the car would explode, she wagered. That fire guaranteed it. Victoire’s gaze dropped down, locking onto the pistol she had been using earlier. With her last bit of strength, she snatched it and shot her attacker in the head from where she sat. 

The other man, who was so uncomfortably familiar, snatched the still smoking gun by the muzzle and wrenched it from her grasp.

“We both need medical attention. Do you know of a ripperdoc whom you trust?”

Victoire snorted sarcastically, “d-didn’t you know? I’m Trauma Team Plat. They’ll be here a-any minute.”

“This is no time for jokes! You are bleeding out, if we do not get help soon you will—”

“Viktor. V-Vik will patch us up.”

“We have to get there somehow! Call someone, anyone.”

Even in her half delirious state, Victoire couldn’t help but notice how bossy her so-called savior was. As quickly as one could with a system malfunctioning, she pulled up her holo list. DeShawn, dead. Jackie, dead. Misty? Couldn’t drag her into this shit. Viktor couldn’t leave his office to get them… Finally,  _ Delamain _ . What was the service Dex had got her and Jackie? Excalibur? She was at death’s door, surely. Would Delamain come to take her corpse, just as he had done for the Welles family?

With no other choice, she called. After a moment of ringing, the familiar white-faced AI flashed in the corner of her vision. 

“Greetings! My scanner indicates you are outside the service area.”

“J-Just come get us,  _ please _ ,” God, now she was begging AIs? “We need to g-get to Misty’s… Misty’s Esoterica, V-Vik’s place is in the back...”

  
“Of course. A vehicle is en route! It should arrive in less than twenty minutes.”

Relief washed over her and suddenly, Victoire felt more tired than ever before. She hung up the call and before she could stop herself, she passed out again.

* * *

Victoire woke up to a warmly familiar sight. The first thing she noticed, apart from pink and red fluorescent lights, was Viktor. He was sitting on his chair just as usual, with his arm propped up and his face focused on his television screen. Upon noticing her stir from the corner of his peripheral, Viktor hopped up and quickly crossed the room. 

“V! How are ya feelin’?”

Before she could even try to sit up, Viktor pressed his hand softly against her shoulder. Taking the hint, she slumped back and gave up trying to move just yet. Her vision whirled and glitched, stutter-stepping with hues of blue and static. 

“I-I don’t know… something… _ something  _ is seriously wrong,” Victoire’s gaze swept the length of his office, “seeing shit, can’t think straight…”

“Describe the hallucinations to me,” he ordered, serious as ever with his arms crossed. Victoire had never seen him so worried.

“Lights are blinding, jittery— sound is too loud. Can’t breathe, l-like a lung popped or something.” Anger stirred in her. She was upset with her situation, with Arasaka, with Dex, “r-really fucking angry too. Feel like hurting someone,  **a lot** .”

Through her pain-fueled daze and anger, she could barely remember the odd dream she had while passed out… Arasaka tower, a woman… a bomb? It felt all so real yet at the same time, a distant memory— something she could barely recall over her agony and the heavy medication Viktor had her hooked up on.

“I-I bombed a tower… Vik, did I… I  _ couldn’t _ have attacked Arasaka again, could I? I was just in the landfill. I’m—”

“Take a breather, V. I’ll explain what I can… just, breathe.”

Viktor took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, struggling with the mess left before him. Victoire watched as he pulled his chair over and took a seat in front of her, his posture slouched and his face tugged into a harsh frown. 

“Those were memories,” he sighed and shook his head. “There was a personality construct on that shard— the Relic. The dreams you had were from his past.”

As she listened to him explain just how fucked she was; how she was no longer her own person...Victoire didn’t know what was worse: being number one on Arasaka’s hit-list, or having a terrorist invade her brain.


	4. When Cyberghosts Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Trigger Warning for this chapter. There is some suicide baiting, typical to in-game dialogue.

_Therefore I Am_

**Chapter Three** :  
WHEN CYBERGHOSTS ATTACK  
  


* * *

Misty Olszewski deserved better, Victoire concluded, as the blonde carefully pushed the wheelchair along. V’s two years in Heywood with Jackie lead to her meeting several interesting characters; none of which she would consider to be very close friends. She had thought Misty odd, albeit nice and better than some of the other people one would come across within the depths of Night City. 

The two weren’t the closest; their friendship mainly only because of their mutual friend. Yet despite not being the best of friends, here Misty still was— escorting Victoire home as her head spun and her legs refused to work.

At that moment, Victoire wanted to apologize. She hated being a burden, and worst of all, she felt responsible for Jackie’s death. She mentally berated herself, her internal battle unbeknownst to Misty as they exited the elevator and wandered down the hall and towards her apartment. 

“Thank you Misty,” Victoire struggled to find the words, having never felt this much **guilt** before, “I-I’m sorry for being a burden on you, for… Jack. I should’ve been smarter, my head got too big and I—”

“C’mon now, V. Enough of that,” Misty brough the wheelchair to a stop beside Victoire’s bed, “Life is a beautiful and powerful thing, much more so than death. Though I grieve, I take solace in the memories Jackie and I had together.”

Misty walked around the wheelchair and crouched in front of Victoire, colorful bottles in both of her hands. 

“Here,” she instructed, “I have medicine for you.”

Victoire frowned. How much did all this cost? Surely with all the medications that Viktor had her hooked up on, all the other patients he had to turn away during her recovery, he would have been out quite a bit of scratch. Again, the word echoed in the back of her mind… _Burden_. 

She hadn’t felt this guilty when she moved in with the Welles family, when she took their food and bed without paying them back. When had she got this soft? Victoire berated herself internally; the pain, the medication, all of it made for a dangerous cocktail of emotions that she could barely shift through. 

“You listening, V?” 

“R-Right, sorry. I’m just… can you repeat what you said?”

Misty’s frown deepened, but she nodded and held the blue bottle out, “this is omega blockers. Take them regularly and it’ll keep things from progressing too quickly. They should make your guest calm and quiet.”

Victoire set a holo alarm to remind her to take the medication every morning, “and the other?”

The blonde looked down at the orange bottle in deep thought for a moment, before letting out a sigh, “this is Pseudoendotrizine, these are from _me_. Their effect is the opposite, it’ll speed things up, free the demon so to speak.”

Reluctantly, Victoire took the bottles. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she turned the bottle over in her hand, examining the paper label. Why the hell would Misty give her these? Why would she want this damned cancer to speed up? She already had so little time and the damn construct in her mind would have total control soon enough anyway. Surely there would be no need to actually take the red pills. 

“Thank you again, Misty. I promise I’ll make it up to you and Vik before… before, well,” she waved her hand in a faux-nonchalant way, “the inevitable.”

“Don’t worry about that, okay? Just do what you can to chase those leads down. Maybe you’ll find a way.”

“Maybe...I-I should get some sleep, I really appreciate you helping me out here.”

Misty watched as Victoire struggled to stand. She used the wheelchair’s armrests for support, her legs still stiff and awkward. It took a hobble and a half to reach her destination, her entire left side numb from the painkillers. When Victoire eventually collapsed onto the bed, Misty took a seat next to her. 

“Got one more thing for ya,” the mystical girl reached into her pocket and pulled a chain out.

The harsh fluorescent light glinted off the metal object as it exchanged from Misty to Victoire’s hand. V took the pendant, turning it over in the expanse of her palm. Connected to the chain was a circle metallic band. Hanging in the center of it, strapped in place by straps, was a bloodied bullet.

“Vik was able to pull that out of your skull,” Misty explained, “a good luck charm, maybe?”

“A good reminder of how much I fucked up,” Victoire muttered bitterly. Catching Misty’s worried eye, she sighed. “Depressing, right. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Just get some sleep, okay? Sweet dreams, V.”

Victoire watched as Misty stood and took her leave, carefully closing the apartment door behind her. Her arm tinged with pain in protest as Victoire raised her arm and slid the chain around her neck. A reminder… something to live by, to keep her head steady. 

* * *

She couldn’t sleep. As if on repeat, she tossed and turned. At one point, she woke up to a man in her room. He leaned against the wall, a pair of dark aviators shielding his eyes from view. Victoire weakly noted his long dark hair and matching facial hair: was he a dream? Her head spun— nothing felt _real_.

“Gotta get out of here, understood?” He warned.

A dream, Victoire reassured herself, leaning back into bed and forcing to look away. In a flash he was on top of the bed, a leg on either side of her body. Ugly anger twisted on his face as he leaned down, getting right into her personal space. It felt like her heart was going to hammer out of her chest; the fear paralyzing her where she laid. 

“And I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. You included.”

It felt so real, like some damn night terror. Like a child, Victoire pulled the covers over her head. She cocooned herself. She kept fists full of quilt pressed over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. It reminded her of her own childhood, of hiding under the blankets from some made up monster… except this time, her parents weren’t here to comfort her. No— her mom was long dead and her dad hated her. He was too occupied now with his new wife and the easy life of retirement. He didn’t give a shit about her when he kicked her to the curb, and he very much so didn’t care now.

At some point, in her pathetic attempt to hide from whoever the fuck it was plaguing her, Victoire fell asleep. Despite it only being a short while, barely even a nap, it was the most comfortable sleep she had got in days. When she eventually woke up again, she took her time opening her eyes. The silence was quickly interrupted again though when _he_ spoke up.

“Need a smoke. Where’d you stash yourself?”

"Probably back in the landfill where I was dumped," she quipped back, frustrating already ebbing at her.

“Then go out and get some more,” he demanded as Victoire finally forced herself to climb out of bed, “I just need one last one!”

Once on her feet, she froze. That voice— _she recognized it_ . From the fucked up dream-memory she had while passed out at Viktor’s place. Her head snapped over to where Johnny stood, his back still pressed up against the wall with his ‘ganic and metal arm crossed against his chest. He wasn’t some night terror or intruder: it was the fucking **terrorist**.

“And the gears start turning,” he mocked, “too bad I’m stuck with a corpo-cunt. How’s that for fucking karma.”

Victoire let out a bitter laugh, “rather be a cunt than a piece of shit terrorist. Remind me, how many innocent people did you kill? How many of the people you supposedly fight for die due to your negligence?”

Angrily she turned, keen on leaving Johnny fucking Silverhand in her wake. Her back was now to him when suddenly, he reappeared again. Before she could react to his magic trick, Johnny reached forward and shoved her with all his might. It felt so real; like his hand really were on her. Victoire cursed and lost her balance, her injuries far too severe for her to catch herself. She landed on her back with a hard thump. 

Again, Johnny reappeared over her. He raised his metal fist, ready to swing once again. 

“You working for Arasaka now? Saburo? Don’t fucking play dumb— I saw your memory, the one where he offered you that job! Where you fought with your daddy like a spoiled fucking princess!”

Suddenly, it was like V was a puppet on strings. Johnny pointed at her and before she could react, her own hand did the exact same. For a moment, Johnny’s mask of anger slipped away and was replaced with one of genuine shock. Experimenting with their new found discovering, he moved his left arm forward and she immediately followed his movements

“The fucking chip,” Johnny cursed as both of them reached behind their right ear, fingers gently resting against their shard port. “I’ll rip the fucking thing out myself!”

“N-No, don’t you—”

Darkness consumed her vision and when her eyes opened back up, Victoire felt violently sick. Her body moved on it’s own accord and all she could do was watch as she came to a slow stand. Under Johnny’s control, her hand slipped up the wall to rest against her window. Outside, the city was swept away in a shower of violent rain.

“I’ll take control,” Johnny’s voice echoed in her own mind.

Victoire fought internally, trying her best to gain control, to stay strong. Johnny lurched forward and her head immediately connected hard against the glass. When she pulled back, blood was already smeared against the pane. 

“I’ll find a way!”

He slammed her head against the glass again. She felt faint, ready to collapse when suddenly— one more uncontrollable smack against the window.

* * *

Victoire felt sweet relief when she woke up able to control her body once again. Her eyes stung with tears as she flexed her fingers, desperate to see them move on her own command. Before Johnny could try anything, she grabbed the blue pill bottle that Misty had left her. She was halfway through unscrewing the top when her ‘guest’ reappeared and slapped the bottle out of her hand. She watched, dumbstruck as it rolled across her tiled floor. 

Before she could reach for them, his hand was on her shoulder— and by God did the weight of his grip feel _real_.

“Not like that,” he dug his grip into her bare shoulder. “Stick some fucking iron in your mouth and just pull the trigger!”

Reading her thoughts before she could even react, Johnny pushed her aside. Once again Victoire came into contact with the floor. It was only then that she realized how fucked up she was. Her face stitches stung painfully, both her forehead and cheek sticky with what had to be blood. It felt as if her skull was split in two from the mere pain that Johnny was able to inflict. If he could do this much to her…

Her stomach twisted in horror. Her gaze snapped from Johnny pacing the length of the room, to her pill bottle on the floor. A few had spilled out, only a few feet away.

“I can feel our minds, _touching_ ,” Johnny voiced out loud as he walked back and forth restlessly, “Like mold on fruit, just festering and creeping into you. There’s nothing I can even do about it.”

As he rambled on, distracted with his own circumstance, Victoire forced herself to crawl forward. After two sharp tugs forward, she was within reach of a pill. She grabbed it quickly, before Johnny could react, and shoved it into her mouth. It hurt to swallow it down dry, but as quickly as he had come… Johnny was gone. 

Victoire rolled over, flopping onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Peace, finally! It was there, as she stared up at the ceiling fan that she decided… she would never take the Pseudoendotrizine. Johnny could go fuck himself if he thought she was going to play nice and sweet for him as he took over her mind.

After regaining what little straight she had, Victoire stumbled to her feet. Her legs were still stiff with exhaustion but moving nonetheless. A bee line was made to the bathroom and once inside, she rested against the porcelain counter and assessed the damage.

Her cheek injury, the cut from the mantis blade, had appeared to reopen slightly. Stitches be damned, bled crept from the seams that Viktor had so generously provided her with. Along with it, her forehead now had a large gash. _Fuck_. Carefully, Victoire reached up to prod the injury— hoping that at the very least it wasn’t too deep. Before she could even touch it though, her holo started to ring. Whoever it was, wasn’t on her contact list. 

“What?” Victoire immediately demanded upon answering, not bothering to look at the holo screen. She grabbed a piece of tissue from the countertop and lightly dabbed where her stitches were bleeding.

“Takemura here.”

As soon as she heard the voice, her eyes snapped to the display. His expression was neutral but open meeting each other's gaze in the video call, he shifted in his seat. “You are bleeding.” 

Her instant reaction was to be hostile; to tell him no fucking shit she was bleeding. Victoire took a sharp inhale and tried to distract herself with cleaning up the blood. She had to play nice— after all, and obviously he had some connection to Arasaka.

“I know you aren’t calling to check him on me,” she tried her best to keep her voice even, “but I can’t talk biz right now. Just...let me clean this up.”

“Were you attacked again?” 

“Yes— well… no? Sort of. Not by the men who chased us before.”

“We must meet, it’s imperative that we do. Come to Tom’s Diner—”

V cut him off, “I’ll be frank, I don’t know what to make of you Takemura. You’re…. oddly familiar? You nearly caught us at Konpeki Plaza when Jackie and I were hiding, but…” 

She shook her head, as if the act alone would clear her thoughts, “and I’m rambling. The point is: I know you work with Arasaka. Or… at least you did. Weren’t those Arasaka agents who attacked us the other day? Even if they weren’t and you did still work for the family, surely you wouldn’t have just taken me to a ripperdoc and left me there. Considering I’m not in chains or, ya know… dead, I’m assuming this is going to make for one interesting chat.”

“Not another word. Not yet. Come to the diner.” 

Before she could even argue, Takemura hung up. Victoire sighed, dropping the now bloodied napkin into the sink. She was right, wasn’t she? He needed her for something… was it the chip he was after? Like Saburo’s son, did Takemura also want it for himself? Victoire had to force herself to stop, if only for her wellbeing. Now was not the time for conspiracy theories, she had to clean herself up.

What little medical knowledge she knew was all thanks to Mama Welles. After having to patch her and Jackie up one too many times after close calls in their line of work, Victoire was forced to learn how to do it herself. Mama Welles was a kind woman; albeit her no bullshit attitude, and taught V the basics. 

After clearing away the blood, Victoire was at least relieved to find that her injuries were not too bad. Her stitches would be fine, granted she wasn’t hit in the face again by some dickhead cyberghost, and the gash along the left side of her forehead wasn’t too deep. After cleaning both up and slapping a bandage against her head though, she couldn’t help but feel silly. She looked like a total gonk. 

With her face now cleaned up, Victoire approached her closet and pulled out the first top and bottoms she could find. Normally she cared greatly for her appearance, often spending quite a bit of time on her outfit and make up. But now? She was just too exhausted— emotionally and physically. One pair of jeans and a peach-colored sweater later, she tugged her shoes on and headed out. Victoire was one foot out the door when she realized what was forgetting: her iron. 

It was supposed to just be a discussion, at least that’s what Takemura claimed, but who knew. Taking precautions, she doubled back and grabbed a pistol from her mini-armory. Better to be safe than sorry.


	5. The Game Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) This chapter is suuuuuper dialogue heavy. NGL, I get pretty insecure when it comes to dialogue. I worry it's too much talking, not enough showing. Let me know what you think?  
> (2) Thank you so, so much for 1k hits! Super special thank you to all those who left comments, bookmarks, and kudos. ily!

_Therefore I Am_

**Chapter Four** :  
THE GAME PLAN  
  


* * *

Tom’s Diner was a small joint nestled between the street markets of Little China. Victoire had visited there time and time again with Jackie. Whenever they struggled with particularly long jobs that didn’t let up till the sun rose, the two would go to the diner. Exhausted, sometimes even covered in blood, they’d eat their fill on pancakes before dragging themselves to V’s apartment. There, Jackie would knock out on the couch and Victoire would sleep in bed till the late afternoon.

The restaurant once brought her comfort, but looking at it alone, with no one by her side… it felt empty. Victoire shook her head as if to banish the good memories— now was not the time to reminisce. She had to get into the right mindset to play a corpo, who knew what this meeting would bring?

Upon entering, the familiar face of Sarah; an older waitress who had been working there for God knows how long, waved to Victoire. 

“Hey, V! No Jackie this time? How ‘bout you get settled and I’ll grab you the usual.”

Victoire flinched, forcing her eyes to leave Sarah. In the back corner of the restaurant, Goro Takemura was watching her. Did they really have to do this? Now?

“I— um… sorry, Sars. I know you and Jack were close… He passed away, not too long ago.”

The waitress gasped and before V knew what was happening, arms were wrapped around her in a tight hug. Her face heated with blush and embarrassment as she resisted the urge to push the woman off. She was here for business— the last thing she wanted was Takemura to see this, to see her as weak.

“I can’t believe it!” Sarah whined, crying into Victoire’s hair, “he was just here the other day!” 

“Jesus Christ,” the owner, Tom himself, called behind the cash register, “Let ‘er go, Sarah! Go take a five minute break, get your shit together.”

As if realizing the sudden ridiculousness of the situation, Sarah pulled back. Her face was wet with tears and she gave Victoire a small smile. 

“Stay strong, V. I-I’m going to go get cleaned up, when I get back I’ll get you your regular.” 

“Thanks, but I’m fine… I’m sort of here on business.”

At that, Sarah quickly used the back of her hands to wipe away at her tears, “I-I’ll leave you to it then. Just holler if you need anything, okay?”

Victoire forced herself to give the waitress a reassuring smile. Now was not the time to get emotional, to slip up. Once Sarah’s back was turned, her yellow-uniform clad figure retreating towards the back of the restaurant for her much needed break, V turned her attention back to Takemura.

His head was turned, silver gaze focused on people watching just outside the adjacent window. Victoire didn’t know what to make of it— surely he had heard everything; there was no missing it with how loud Sarah was, yet he wanted to give her the illusion of privacy? Was it actual compassion, or a simple tactic to bide time? To store the little bit of information he had learned away, possibly for later use?

With nothing else in the way to stop her, Victoire approached the table carefully. As she slid into the booth she noted that he was dressed up rather nicely. A white button up, sans a suit jacket, almost gave off the impression that he was still working with Arasaka. His hair was neatly groomed, brushed back into a tight bun, and the coffee cup in front of him almost made the whole scene look innocent. A simple business meeting, between two corpos. They both knew better though— they were both attacked, after all. He had to be far from perfectly composed. 

“You look like shit,” was the first thing out of his mouth. 

Victoire scoffed, “is this going to be how you greet me every time, in person? Last time you told me I smelled like shit, and now…”

“Were you tailed at all? Attacked? Your head injury,” he frowned, “that is new.”

“No one followed,” she paused for a moment. She couldn’t tell him about actually  _ seeing  _ Johnny. If he knew about how little control she had at times, how Johnny nearly fucking killed her, it could be used to his advantages. Victoire wasn’t about to show all her cards, let alone her number one vulnerability now, “it… it was nothing, okay? But enough about earlier— why am I here?”

“Then, in the car, I hadn’t thought you’d survive,” he took a drink of his coffee. 

“I didn’t think so either. I… was almost content with the outcome— back in the landfill, I mean. Figured, well… lost everything else now, at least I was dying with a nice view of the stars. Why _ did _ you save me, though?” She wanted to ask how he even knew Dexter DeShawn, but she swallowed the question down. One topic at a time.

“I needed you to live, and that still hasn’t changed. To begin, I need you to tell me where I can find Evelyn Parker.”

Victoire feigned confusion, her lips pulled into a quick pout, “Evelyn Parker? Can’t say I know one.”

If only that were true. Victoire half debated screwing Dex over, ‘cutting the middleman out’, as Evelyn had suggested. Not even T-Bug knew about the offer; V had only taken it to Jackie. They bounced back and forth with the deal and in the end, remained tight-lipped. 

“She and Yorinobu Arasaka had intimate relations… She knows how to get to him.”

V weighed her loyalties to Evelyn. The woman was barely a stranger, and though they had spent quite a bit of time working through the braindance together, Victoire wasn’t sure if she could be trusted. After all, it was her fault that V was in this entire mess. If she hadn’t taken up the job, if she had just walked away as soon as Arasaka was even brought up, she wouldn’t be dying. Besides, why had Evelyn even wanted the Relic? And if she was so willing to double cross a man as powerful as Dex… what about her?

“I… Okay, yes. I know Evelyn— she promised to get rid of the chip. I haven’t heard from her though, not since that day in the tower. Don’t even know if I can trust her...”

“She is likely gone, very far away. I would not count on her helping you now.”

Victoire rolled her eyes, “so you did your own searching. You know better than I then, so why bother asking?” 

Goro’s hands came to rest on the table top as he leaned forward, a frustrated look on his face, “why did you believe she could remove the chip? Is she working with another corporation?”

“What? Think she’s teamed up with Militech?” V scoffed, “No— if she was then my job would have gone a whole lot smoother. She had a lot of information, obviously classified, but… I don’t know where she got it. Evelyn spoke like she had the slyness of someone in the corpo world but… I just don’t know.”

“Do I, too, possess this ‘slyness’ you speak of?” The corner of his mouth tugged into a small, mischievous grin.

“Oh, sure,” she crossed her arms and carefully leaned forward, “I remember you. You know, from the—”

“The bar?” He supplied, his grin slipped away and was instead replaced with an unreadable look, “Your hair is different, I almost didn’t recognize you. After I heard you being called ‘V’ I did some digging, and well…”

Victoire dropped her arms. It was true she looked different; after all, she was no longer a fresh faced twenty-one year old. Her hair was no longer blonde, her previous salon no longer within her budget. Instead of rocking long platinum hair as she had before, it was now a much muddier tone of brown and just barely passed her shoulders. On top of it, she actually started to develop some laugh lines— while she was horrified at them to begin with, Mama Welles stepped in and told her to love every one of them. That they were a sign of a much happier life. 

She didn’t remember the bar Takemura mentioned, though. 

“I… Bar? I was talking about the meeting. I had thought that… well, you could have easily turned me in, used Arasaka taking over my father’s company as motive for the murder but.. You didn’t,” Victoire’s frown deepened in confusion, “I remember going to the bar but… you weren’t there?”

Takemura looked suddenly uncomfortable. He leaned back in the booth and averted his gaze, choosing to look back out the window. Why couldn’t he look her in the eyes?   


“It matters little. I… thought you would have remembered. It was nothing, just a simple escort back to your room.”

Victoire couldn’t remember much of anything after the meeting, apart from being annoyed at the bartender and drinking more sake than she should have. Noting the way he refused to meet her gaze, her face heated up with embarrassment. Drunk Victoire did a whole lot of stupid things, even more so than what drunk V would do. 

“Jesus Christ,” Victoire groaned, “I am sorry for however I conducted myself at the bar, then. I don’t even want to hear how inappropriately I acted that afternoon. I just… please, forget whatever happened.”

“That would be for the best,” he answered quickly— too quickly, “as you were saying?”

She cleared her throat, “right. I um… Corpo slyness, right. Yes, obviously you are… no longer with Arasaka?” She waited for him to give a clipped nod, “you got tossed out. If you hadn’t been, then I wouldn’t be here with you— enjoying a cup of joe and talking about old news. I’d be in jail, or— or under the knife I suppose, having the chip forced outta me.”

“Yorinobu Arasaka must answer for his crimes of patricide.”

“You really believe me, then? Or at least doubt Yorinobu’s excuse? What did he say it was— poisoning?”

“What I seek is… revenge. It is much more feasible here. I have allies prepared to bring Yorinobu to his knees. The only thing I need is proof.”

“You want me to testify? That… they won’t just believe me. Like I said, my family… they’ll use them, the absorption, against me. I can already see the headlines now: ‘ _ Emperor Murdered at the Crazy Hands of Ex-Corpo _ ’.”

“I have nothing better now. I know no one here and I am a fugitive, I’m being hunted.”

“I-I know what it’s like, to have no one but… helping you with this? What do you want me to do, Takemura? Just walk up to Arasaka HQ, tell anyone who will listen what I saw?”

“We will get a hearing before reasonable people,” the awkwardness of earlier was gone now and instead, replaced with a serious expression on his face, “in a neutral location. Certain… procedures will be used to establish the truth.”

Victoire hated how closely his own situation resembled hers. When she was tossed to the street, left with no one and nowhere to go, she reached out desperately to the first person to listen. She was so incredibly lucky to have Jackie and his mother help her; but surely this was different, wasn’t it? Even if she bared her soul, if she used whatever lie detecting cyberware they wanted, would they truly believe her? She was a formerly scorned corpo-daughter gone merc, she had no credibility to these people. 

That was when it hit her: braindances. They were able to access Yorinobu’s penthouse only because of their ability to look back at the braindance created with the help of Evelyn’s memory and Judy’s editing software. 

“BDs,” Victoire quickly quipped, finally feeling a sense of hope, “maybe they can get one from my memory of that night. I know a girl, maybe she can spin up a shard of it. They’d listen to that, wouldn’t they?” 

Takemura seemed to think it over for a moment, “possibly. And then, once they know the truth, they can help. The Relic is technology that Arasaka alone knows. This corporation can save you as easily as they can make you disappear. It’s merely about getting their right people on your side. Politics.”

“The right people, like… what was his name… Hellman? The Relic is his design, isn’t it? He was their bioengineer.” 

“Untrue, he is a pawn. I was thinking of someone much more powerful. Besides, Anders Hellman escaped Arasaka, betrayed it.”

Suddenly behind him, a breaking news segment alerted the television. Takemura twisted in his seat, one leg propped out of the booth as he watched the screen. Victoire looked on as well, just as a news anchor began to speak about the death of Saburo. The woman introduced alongside him was Hanako and while Victoire did not recognize her, she very well knew who the woman was. 

“Fuckin’ ‘Saka scums everywhere,” Tom cursed from behind the register, quickly changing the channel before the interview could even start. 

“Hey! I was watching that!” Takemura spoke up.

“Shut up. Nobody ‘cept you wants to watch that shit about that corpo cunt.”

Suddenly, Goro stood up. His body posture was enough alone to speak for anger he struggled with, and it caused Victoire to sigh. All of this— Night City, the murder of his boss, the anti-Arasaka sentiment shared by most normal denizens of the city…

“What did you say?” 

“Takemura, please,” Victoire called out from the table, “just… leave it. Isn’t worth a fight right now.” 

Slowly, as if still wrestling with his thoughts, Goro turned around. He sighed, the exhaustion seeping through his well-built wall. He slid back into the booth.

“Tom is a good guy, just… speaks his mind— even when he’s wrong.” 

Takemura looked over his shoulder once more at Tom, before resting his view on the table between them. 

“He reminds me of my father. He also worked in a kitchen all his life.”

The corpo in Victoire filed that little bit of information away. If his father was a cook, then surely he wasn’t corpo blood. A part of her wanted to ask more about his father, his family. After all, he knew so much about her. She refrained from asking though. It was clear he was exhausted, and it felt like Victoire would need another dose of medication soon. 

“Thank you for the offer, Takemura. For everything, I suppose. Saving me from that landfill, killing Dex… I just need time to think and chase down leads.”

“I need to do the same. To plan, to organize… You stand to gain much if you help me. All I ask is that you do not leave the city.”

“I’m not looking to gain much. Just don’t want to die… not yet, anyhow. Not when Misty, Viktor… and you, I suppose, put your necks out on the line to save me. I’ll be in the city— just going to check in on my people,” she left Judy’s name out. She was the only person in the city she knew that worked on BDs and the last thing she wanted was to throw the girl’s name into the situation, “maybe take a look into Hellman’s disappearing act.”

“I myself spent many days looking for him. He has— what is the expression… ‘ _ Disappeared off the face of the earth _ ’?”

“Why were you even looking for him to begin with?” 

“He was the one to alert Saburo-san to Yorinobu’s schemes. He knew both of them well and could be an important witness.”

Victoire’s eyes squinted in thought, as she mentally tried to arrange all the information she had been given thus far, “sounds like he knew Yorinobu would come looking for him first. Cleared his conscience by ratting him out and skipped town to save hide. If we find him, we can get him to squeal. Adds more legitimacy to the truth.”

Takemura nodded, “my thoughts exactly. For several days I have been collecting information. All leads point to one place— a club called the Afterlife. I was quickly dismissed by the ‘Queen of Fixers’ there; Rogue.”

“Why would she do that?” Fixers weren’t the most honest people, Victoire knew that for a fact. They often worked with ‘corpo rats’, though, so long as the payment was high enough. 

“She… saw me as Saburo-sama’s killer.”

Victoire’s frown deepened. That made no sense whatsoever— what part of Takemura would make Rogue think he was the killer? “I’ve been to the Afterlife before, I’ll see what I can do. No promises though, I’ve never worked with her before.”

“I wish you luck. The woman is choosy, expensive,  _ and _ rude.”

The two fell silent, both two sides of the very same fucked-over coin. The situation was deep enough for either to drown, and all they could do was rely on one another to keep afloat. Victoire was a dead woman walking and Goro had lost everything. A part of her wondered where she would be right now if she had accepted Saburo’s work proposition. Would she just be another clog in the vast machine that is Arasaka, as far away as one could be from the former emperor’s murder?

“I should go. When people in Arasaka are ready to listen, I will call you.” He stood up suddenly, Victoire’s eyes rising with him. “If by some miracle you find Hellman, please notify me. Him and I have unfinished business.”

He turned to leave, but Victoire quickly stopped him. 

“Wait—” when he paused, Victoire shrugged her shoulders weakly, “you okay? Got eddies, a place to go? I-I know what it’s like, getting kicked to the curb so to speak… I had a friend to help me though. I often think what I would have done if I was out here on my own but..” 

Victoire didn’t want to get emotional— she tried to force herself not to. But it was a hard feat to accomplish as she sat there in front of Goro. He had seemed honest, like someone she should work with. Both had been scorned and were out to bring the truth to light; even if it was for their own selfish reasons.

“I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine. Take care of yourself, V.”

She watched his receding figure as he exited through the side door and into the dirty alley out back. Victoire sunk down in her seat, her head beginning to ring with pain. She had to get in contact with Judy, see if she could whip up a BD of what happened that night… and Evelyn? Victoire didn’t even know if she wanted to see the woman. What the hell had she wanted the shard for, and what lengths was she willing to go to get it? Then there was Rogue— choosy, expensive, and rude, according to Takemura. Would she even give V the time of day?

Victoire slid to the end of the booth bench, ready to get up when suddenly her vision lurched. She squeezed her eyes shut harshly, hoping that the sharp and jagged glitches in her view would stop. Unfortunately for her, she opened her eyes up just in time to see Johnny manifesting in the seat Goro had previously occupied.

“Night City never changes. Arasaka’s still a despotic machine and the world’s on a collision course with chaos.”

“What the fuck?” Victoire hissed, “you tried to fucking kill me, and now all fo the sudden you just want to… what? Chat? Shoot the shit about how horrible NC is?” 

“I’ve processed some shit, changed my mind. Don’t want you dead anymore.”

“Nope, go fuck yourself. Fat chance in hell we’re gonna be pals.”

“Hey,” Johnny raised his arms dramatically, “wasn’t easy for me, either. You woke up in a landfill, I woke up in your head wrestling with your thoughts, memories… And Jesus, was that a shit show.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did my corpo memories leave a bad taste in your mouth? Better get fucking used to it.”

“What I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ say here is we might be able to help each other! We can start with Rogue, her and I go back to the stone age.”

“You mean that chick who helped you in your ‘little’ attack? Your revenge against Arasaka? Yeah, like I need another terrorist all up in my biz. Besides, what the hell am I supposed to say, ‘ _ hey, got this assface of a cyberghost in my brain. Mind helping me out? _ ’ Not gonna happen.”

“Trust me, Rogue has heard dumber shit than that— way back when you weren’t even an itch in your daddy’s ballsack.”

“Ya, you don’t really need to convince me. I saw your memories, and they were fuckin’ gross. If she’s willing to put up with the likes of you…”

Johnny scoffed, “as if your memories are any better. You really don’t fuckin’ remember the bar? With your little Arasaka friend? That’s  _ real _ preem. You were practically—”

“Nope, get fucked,” Victoire pushed herself up as soon as he mentioned Goro. 

She did her best to keep her head raised high and her gait strong, despite the pain swelling right behind her eyes. Victoire thought her life was bad before? When she was forced to pick between being a waitress and a merc? Shit was just getting started.


End file.
